Antichrist
by Of Wolves And Dogs
Summary: “I’ll get you for this, Jayden. Don’t worry, I will not forget!” Blake never did forget.


**A/N: **I've been wanting to do a fic with Blake and Jayden for a long time now. I think their relationship is just engaging. Blake is such an asshole! I love it! I am thinking of doing another one with Blake... The guy is just a devilish prick. What is there not to love?

**Rating: **'M' for Mature

**Antichrist  
Written By:** of wolves and dogs  
N. Jayden & C. Blake

"_I'm walking pollution  
Is drained by delusions  
On the verge of destruction  
I cave into abduction  
Thin blood I'm bleeding  
Pulse won't stop racing  
Just as my heart explodes  
No chance that I could win..."_

"Angels with Dirty Faces" by Sum 41

* * *

Norman's forehead was glued to the cold window as streaks of rainwater ran down at a reckless pace. They battered and ran across the window, and the icy chill from the atmosphere outside had long ago bled into the glass. He hated the cold. He had a low tolerance for chilly weather -- let alone wet weather. Yes, it rained in Washington, but there was something terribly dismal and gray about this rain. It sucked at his soul like vampires in folklore, leaving him drained and cynical. He recalled bitterly the cops he spoke to at the first crime scene he encountered.

"Doesn't it rain from where you come from?" one of them asked. Of course it did, you fuckin' morons. It just didn't feel as if he was in the ninth circle of Hell and plunged in the icy lake Satan was encrusted in. At least he knew there was a chance it wouldn't rain tomorrow. But here...it always seemed to rain. There was never any signs of the rain relenting and the chances of him ever being dry seemed nonexistent.

The rain would be the death of him, he was sure of it. It would be the death of this city, for he saw how ugly they have become. Blood and rain told a dark story in this city, and in turn the inhabitants began to reflect it. Unfriendly civilians, cold shoulders, short fuses, and a overstimulated trigger finger... Norman was far from surprised that such horrific crimes would come to be here. The minute he glanced at the weekly weather forecast before trekking on over, he felt cold shivers run down his spine... His body knew of the oncoming cold and he ignored it's quiet pleas and moved on forward.

So he was stuck. Smacked down between ghoulish New Jersey and the capital city of New York: Albany. Fantastic. Just fantastic. Perfect... Everything just seemed perfect. For example, like how there was exactly no leads whatsoever. No witnesses. Clues that were too broad that they could almost be considered useless. A Lieutenant who rather shove his fist down your throat and tear your insides out instead of simply talking. Terrible withdrawals that left his limbs spazzing and nosebleeds that were becoming a bit too constant. Oh, and he just murdered a man...an innocent man.

Exhaling heavily, breath fogging a patch of the window, he sat in the car in complete disbelief. He didn't mean to shoot Nathaniel Williams. Yes, he was mentally unstable and deeply religious, but when he examined the man's apartment he didn't see a man who would kill children. There was nothing methodical about this man that made him know for certain this was the Origami Killer. Words were erratic on the walls -- jumbled phrases where languages clashed and he knew for certain this man was not their man.

But he pulled a gun at Blake... Threatened to shoot him, and as he tried to soothe the man and use psychology to discard the weapon, he persisted. Blake was absolutely no help as he huffed out insults and demanded him to shoot Nathaniel. The words left Blake's mouth so easily and it nearly stunned him how easy it was to give that order. He refused to follow it, but in the end he panicked. Norman saw his finger twitch on the trigger, and his own fingers twitched to life and pulled it before Nathaniel could. Oh god...what was he supposed to do now!? This man was innocent! He was just under so much stress because a certain asshole decided to goad Nathaniel into a fit of pain and anger.

Blake was nothing but an instigator and in the end, he got what he wanted: a dead religious fanatic. All over the mere fact he bore an extreme prejudice for the man because he was mentally unstable, finding solace in religion, and calling Blake the Antichrist. Did Blake's violence know no end?

_But he didn't pull the trigger. I did. _

"Was that your first time?" the words came out with the sneaking of a soft sigh, the tone rather inquisitive and almost with concern. It was enough to break Jayden out of his cynical thoughts, pale-blue eyes still staring blankly ahead as his fingers fiddled with a lock by his forehead.

"Sorry?" It came out so tired and timid, and he inwardly hissed at this. One thing he gathered from Blake was that he fed off of everyone's personal weakness. If he finds a wound, expect him to pour salt in it. He was deadly and right now, in his vulnerable state, he didn't like Blake having some sort of advantage over him. But what could he do? Clear his throat and repeat himself in a more cutthroat method? Tell him to mind his own business? It would only make him look more ridiculous and starting a fight with Blake only made him more stressed. The man was as bad as the rain...

"First time you killed somebody?" Blake repeated but it was not out of annoyance that Norman was expecting. Now Norman was confused as he turned his head at Blake, the man staring quietly in front of him in the driver's seat before turning his head out his own window. It almost felt as if...Blake was trying to make smalltalk or comfort him. Which was utterly bizarre because Carter Blake _did not_ make smalltalk or comfort anything except, possibly, his own ego. He was cop who wanted to get the job done and would break whatever protocols stood in his way. He was reckless, ruthless, and had the makings of a psychopath when in a fit of rage.

So here was this monster trying to console him.

So Norman Jayden just stared, curious surprise tickling his face as he watched Carter search for something through his window. He was pleased Carter wasn't staring at him, he wouldn't be sure if he could keep his sanity if he saw some glimpse of a 'saint' in the older man's eyes. Turning his gaze back to the window when he watched Carter begin to turn his toward him, he felt himself only continue to curse at himself inwardly.

_Oh so we're going to act like shy teenagers now? When he turns his head, I turn mine away? Vice versa? Man up,_ he scowled at himself.

"It always does something to you the first time," Carter sighed as he stared straight ahead, recalling a memory Norman could not access or see. Yet again Carter was surprising him. Here was the sadistic, 'no bullshit' lieutenant telling him that once upon a time he was in Norman's shoes and feeling nothing but guilt and self-loathing. It was as if Carter Blake just admitted he loves cuddling with puppies and singing songs in the shower. It was just unheard of! What was Blake's motive? What was he trying to accomplish by soothing him? An enraged Blake was a predictable Blake, a 'sensitive' Blake was an unpredictable Blake.

"Than you get used to it...," he finished in a matter-of-fact tone, and it was a small remnant of the Blake he was used to.

Norman remained in the same pose, feeling more and more like a moping child than anything else. Blake made it sound as if this was something normal, that this was just a daily occurrence. It was as if he was just dumped by a girl and was now sulking in his seat as someone tried to ease the internal wounds by giving out his own experience. It was so...otherworldly that it had to be Blake. He wanted to be aggressive and shout out insults about how it was Blake's fault this happened. He wanted to be defensive and claim that he would never turn as cold as Blake. Yet in the end he couldn't bring himself to actually express the reactions that would be seen as normal in this relationship. Instead he felt his shoulders slump in defeat as he could feel those pallid eyes staring at him.

"I'm not sure I want to get used to it..." he breathed out, eyes slowly beginning to focus on the individuals on the sidewalk. Eyes suddenly became alert as his brain hastily registered that the man who just walked out with a cup of coffee was their second suspect. Perking up like a dog to the smell of meat, he sat up in his seat, "That's him."

The words that were about to form on Blake's lips died as Jayden opened the car door hastily, soon following suit and accompanying him in the pounding rain.

* * *

Everything was beginning to spiral downward and Norman saw it in the way Blake savagely cursed at their ill-luck at their second suspect's alibi, to than hastily turn it to a hungry passion when Grace Mars came into the building. Oh was the information delicious to Blake and Norman saw it in the way he sat there so calmly, lips neutral but eyes shinning with a ravenous passion. It was almost too good to be true and Jayden gave a look of disbelief to Blake when their gazes met.

'_I do not believe it's Ethan Mars,'_ Norman's gaze concluded.

'_Too fuckin' bad. I think it is,'_ Carter's gaze responded.

Carter was running the show, and he found himself dragged about across the police station as Carter collected information. When Blake had his mind set on someone, it was stuck there until his/her innocence was blatantly evident in front of his face. It drove Norman nuts to see Blake carry himself with such confidence! It was like watching a rooster claim it was an eagle in a henhouse. Blake was back to being the usual Blake, it seemed.

Watching with a frown on his face in disappointment, as Blake snarled out dark oaths that they couldn't confront Ethan's psychologist till tomorrow morning, he decided he should call it a night. He was soaked, cold, emotionally torn and beat, beginning to get the sniffles and in need of some food. Sleep could come later as he made his way to the hotel he was staying at. Saying his goodbyes to Blake and the other staff, he was given a noncommittal grunt and nothing more. He couldn't care less, he was already imagining a hot shower and dry clothes.

Arriving at the hotel, and thanking his stars for the light traffic on the way, he made a straight beeline to his room. It was because of the FBI was he given decently luxurious hotel rooms. Even though he spent most of his nights at the police station, it was the rare nights he came to the hotel did he feel somewhat at ease. Right now he needed that relaxation -- that peace of mind, because currently he was in a state of limbo.

First thing was first: use room-service to it's fullest. Ordering food and hesitating to ask for a bottle of wine before just clarifying he just wanted the food, he went to take a shower. Timing himself and estimating that he should emerge in approximately fifteen to twenty minutes, he wasted no time jumping in. It felt like Heaven, if one existed. The hot water on his back made him shudder and stretch his back like a feline basking in the warm rays of the sun. Jayden wanted to disperse the cold rain off of his skin and with enough scrubbing he emerged out of the shower smelling like lemon.

God did he feel good, and for a brief moment he forgot his actions not too long ago until he gazed into the mirror. He looked pale from lack of sleep and nourishment, and it made him think of Nathaniel's skin turn a pasty white as life drained out of him. Even though blood sputtered like a low flow, broken fountain...he could see skin pale. He knew he wasn't in trouble with the authorities for killing Mr. Williams, and it was all thanks to Blake who was apparently a great liar. Apparently Mr. Williams saw Blake from the stairs and tried to shoot at him, before fleeing into his apartment building and holing himself inside. Thus, Blake kicked the door open, was caught off-guard by Nathaniel and would have died if it wasn't for Jayden pulling the trigger in defense.

So Norman was glorified for that short timespan by everyone in the police station, and it only confused him even more about Blake. Why didn't Blake slander his image? He had the opportunity to twist the story into something ugly and make him look bad. God, it was just downright scary how Carter Blake functioned. One minute he can be the best of allies, the next minute he can be the devil on your back.

No wait -- that needed rewording: One minute he can be the best of allies, the next twenty four hours he can be the devil on your back.

Drying himself off and wrapping the towel around his waist, making a mental note to shave off the oncoming stubble making itself known on his jawline, he exited the shower to find his mouth watering. The smell of food tickled his nostrils and as he moved toward the smell, he found on the table a tray of food and a six-pack of beer. First of all, how did the staff get into his room? Secondly, he didn't request for beer. Beer sounded great right now, but he didn't order it. Eyes flaring into a state of alert, he began to make his way cautiously toward his Beretta 92FS Inox on the nightstand.

"FBI sure does treat you well," a sardonic voice cut through the atmosphere, making him jerk his body to the right to find the last person he was expecting in his room: Carter Blake.

"How did you get in here? I hope you didn't kick the door down..." Norman bit back dangerously, his body still running on anxious adrenaline as Blake smirked and shrugged his shoulders.

"Nah. I picked the lock."

Brows furrowing in question, Norman tried to hastily run through the possible reasons why Blake was here. Why the hell was Blake here? Did he piss him off again and Blake wanted to make a personal house call? "Is there a specific reason why you're here? A phone call would have sufficed," Norman asked sternly, crossing his arms across his chest to remember that he was half-naked. Blake seemed to realize it two, those cloudy-gray eyes cooly examining him before turning nonchalantly to the right.

"Making sure you don't blow your brains out or overdose on a drug -- or whatever shit you fancy agents do," Blake replied and Norman felt his world come to a halt at his words. Did he know? About his drug problem? About his heavy reliance on Triptocaine? Those eyes seemed to pierce through him and he could feel his mouth suddenly become dry. Dammit. He knew! How? How the hell did he know?! "I've seen other guys take the easy road out and it would be a shame to see the carpet stained red..." Blake mused as he lightly scratched the side of his jaw in mild amusement, as if he actually wouldn't mind seeing it be done.

Now that broke him through his panicked thoughts and he was torn between snorting in disbelief and asking if _Blake_ was on drugs at the moment. He opted with snorting in disbelief and lightly pointing at the beer, "Want a beer?"

"Thought you would never ask."

He knew how a good three quarters of Blake's personality worked, and he had a hunch that if he pointed out a good deed, Blake would find a way to start a fight to cover it up. He was a prideful creature and it was constantly being on display, yet of recent events it has been dropping. Going back into the bedroom to grab a clean pair of clothes, debating whether he should put on a clean dress shirt and slacks or go for comfort. It was his hotel room, after all, and he wasn't on duty or at work... But...Blake... Scratching his arm as he mulled over this, he came to the conclusion it would be ridiculous if he went back to his formal wear. Tugging on his gray T-shirt he got from being on the track team in his college years at M.I.T. and slipping into a pair of jeans, which was such an oddity in his suitcase of suits and ties, he ran a hand through his damp, milk chocolate locks.

Finding the man in the living room with an opened beer in his left hand, settled into one of the armchairs, Norman lightly cleared his throat to announce his presence. Blake didn't even bother to turn to look at him as the FBI agent sat down on the couch. Making a gesture, out of habit and manners, if he could eat, Blake gave a simple shrug of the shoulders once more without a care. Good, because the agent was ravenous as he dug in, pausing to snag a beer and open it.

"I think...when I was first starting off did I kill my first guy," Carter mused out, lightly swirling the contents in the bottle before taking a swig. Norman chewed slowly as his gaze turned in curiosity to the older man who was staring at the wall straight ahead of him. "Fuckin' punk, too. God, he just pissed me off. You know when you start out you get the bitch assignments? I didn't have the patience to knock on every door and question them. That wasn't what I wanted to do -- but I had to do it... When I was questioning one of the neighbors, the sound of the door slamming from the back caught my attention. I stepped away from the porch and looked to my left to see that little asswipe running like there was no tomorrow. So what did I do? I chased the fucker.

"He was smart...ran through parking complexes in hope of losing me. But there was no fuckin' way in hell was I going to lose him. Than the moron decided to grab a woman and threaten to blow her brains out. I didn't know what to say, and I knew if I told him exactly what I thought the woman would be dead. So I shot him. I didn't even need to think about it. I knew where to aim and it was a perfect shot," he sighed, lightly shaking his head with disappointment as if he just admitted he failed a test.

"At first I didn't give a shit. I was fuckin' glad the asshole was gone. Good riddance. But the damn lady began to scream at me -- didn't even thank me. I think it's because of it that I felt absolutely sick to my stomach. I killed a man, and I guess I could have talked him out of it...but talking was the least of my priorities.

"Night of the incident, one of my superiors sat with me over a cold one and told me his own story... But I'm not doing this to make you feel better because I care," Blake sighed as he grabbed another beer, Norman instantly shaking his head almost knowingly. He should have figured that Blake had other motives. Blake being nice because it was good thing to do was very slim in reality. "I'm doing this because I need you to get your head out of your ass and not boohoo to the psychologist tomorrow. We are asking about Mr. Mars, not introducing you to your new shrink," the words left his lips with an authoritative snap, Norman not quite sure if he should be feeling fear or still question Blake's good deeds.

Comforted him in the car. Free beer. What was next? A foot massage?

"I want to find Shaun Mars...that's all I want to do. I came here to get results, Carter, not to solve my own personal dilemmas," Jayden replied after a moment of silence, watching as those eyes akin to the gray skies outside churned and coiled. Jayden expected for the lieutenant to snap those jaws at him like a wild dog at the break of formal ties. They always called each other by their last names. Why? Because that was as far as they were going to get in this relationship: last names. But Jayden broke it with a firm tone and Blake seemed to be mulling this over in that violent skull of his.

"I know...I know..." he sighed, nearly making the FBI agent choke on his still unfinished beer. "We'll find him. Now try to get a good night's sleep. I need you awake tomorrow," he advised before finishing off his second beer with one final swig before placing the bottle back on the coffee table. With that said he stood up, fixed his coat, and walked out of the hotel without another word.

Norman Jayden could only sit in awe and soak this all in.

* * *

He arrived at the station at seven o' clock with only enough time to finish a cup of coffee before Carter Blake barged into his office without knocking (as usual). With a jerk of the head and motion of his hand, he was prompted to get himself together and get ready to leave. Apparently Ethan Mars' psychologist lived a good forty minutes away in the upper and more classier areas in the city. Norman knew hardly anything about the layout of the city but if Carter insisted that it would take forty minutes with traffic, than it was so.

Slipping into Carter's car, it was ten minutes into the ride did he realize that he was once more in a car by himself with the lieutenant. A certain lieutenant who was not known for his kindness but his efficient cruelty. It only made Norman shift in his seat uncomfortably, not quite sure what to say or what to do. The only sound that filled the air was Carter cursing at the idiot drivers, making the hints of a smirk dance on Norman's lips. Carter _would_ have road rage.

Than it soon became a conversation about the idiot drivers. Carter complained about the drivers here, and Norman gave his fair share of complaints about the drivers in Washington, D.C. To think two people can bond over killing someone and bad drivers. God, was their relationship so screwy. They were constantly creating friction between each other, and here they were spewing out curses at incompetent drivers.

What was the world coming to?

Arriving at the office, with Norman persuading the woman at the front desk to let them up as Carter played the 'hellhound-breathing-down-your-neck' role, they were allowed passage toward the elevators. It was inside did the police lieutenant finally ask him the million-dollar question: "How are you doing?"

Norman glanced at the elevator's numbers for each floor before turning his head to look at Carter. Giving a nod, he did feel strangely better. Not as guilty as before, and a sign the inner wound was healing. "I'm doing good. Thanks." Carter gave a grunt in satisfaction and nothing more as the elevator's doors opened and the door to the office laid right before them. Carter opened it and stepped inside.

"I'm Police Lieutenant Carter Blake and this is agent Norman Jayden of the FBI," Blake began, Norman slowly entering the room as Blake took a seat without hesitation, "According to our information, Ethan Mars is one of your patients. We'd like to ask you a few questions about him." So civil. It nearly made Jayden have a change of heart as he watched this very calm and collected man. It was as if the whole 'loose cannon' display from before was just an act, and here was the professional officer before him.

The psychologist looked at them both in surprise at their appearance before making a steeple with his fingers, his gaze focusing on the lieutenant. "I'm sorry, that's impossible."

"I beg your pardon?"

Norman could suddenly feel it, and he wondered if the psychologist could feel it too. That wave of immense irritation that it was nearly suffocating. The FBI agent chose to stand up, sitting on the edge of the desk by Blake just in case the man chose to grab the computer monitor and smash the psychologist's face in. Eyes flickered toward Blake to find the man leaning back against the chair, his posture reading relaxation as his eyes burned a bright silver in coming fury.

"I'm bound by an oath of secrecy. Under no circumstances may I discuss my patients."

Blake leaned forward, hand on his knee as he pinned the psychologist with his steely gaze, "_My_ job is to find Shaun Mars alive and I don't give a damn about any bullshit oath." It was true. This oath was unimportant right now, and even Jayden could admit he felt irked by how stubborn the psychologist was proving to be. He wanted to intervene, but what was there to intervene to? Blake was handling himself magnificently and there has yet to be any bloodshed. Who was he to stop Blake? But if the psychologist kept this up...things had the capability of turning ugly.

"I know you don't want to protect a murderer," Norman began with reason, "If you know anything, you must tell us, Doctor."

"I'm sorry. I can't help you," the psychologist bit back, scooting back in his chair in a gesture that he was ready for them to leave. "Now I must ask you to leave."

Blake shook his head in disbelief, licking a rather sharp left incisor as his body fidgeted in his seat. The lieutenant looked fed up as he pushed himself up, his gaze glancing about in the room as if searching for something, "You need to cooperate -- for your own sake." The words came out with cold firmness and Jayden could feel the tension in the room thicken once more. There came the threat; would the psychologist believe it or learn the hard way?

Jayden needed to cut in now because Blake was looking something akin to dangerous, and he had a chance to cut him off. "Shaun Mars' life may depend on what you know. Tell us what you know, Doctor --"

"Are you threatening me?" the Doctor replied back, Norman's words not even acknowledged as the psychologist scowled in warning at the lieutenant.

"I'm just giving you some free advice, Doc. I suggest you take it," Blake smiled with fake politeness as he moved forward, body eager to destroy the gap between his fist and the doctor's face. His body leaned forward, gloved hands cooly touching the metal desk as eyes bore down.

"Doctor, a child's life is at stake," Norman pleaded, trying to express to the psychologist that _his_ life would be on stake if he didn't answer Blake, "You may know something that could help us save him." _You might be able to save yourself if you just give us what we want. _

The doctor snorted in outrage at this all, his eyes still focused on the imposing Carter Blake. "I'm going to call the police and make a complaint about your behavior," he informed sternly, hand reaching out and grasping the cherry-red phone. Mistake Number One: Turning your eyes off of Blake to call the police. Mistake Number Two: Not realizing that Blake had the police force wrapped around his pinky. Mistake Number Three: Threatening a short-tempered man and actually trying to follow through with the threat.

Norman saw it all happen so quickly as Blake walked around the desk, his fingers skillfully ending the call as his hand did not hesitate to tear the wireless receiver out of the doctor's hands. "Doctor, you're really pushing my buttons," Blake informed darkly, switching the receiver to his right hand as his left hand curled around the doctor's neck in a chokehold. "The only thing I'm interested in is saving that kid's life. So you're going to be a good boy and tell me what I want to know or I'm really going to _lose my temper_," Blake continued, Jayden rising to his feet as he felt a wave of hesitation grip him.

Reasoning with the shrink seemed like the smart move, but Jayden had a hunch Blake was trying out the whole 'reasoning' concept physically. He could reason with Blake, but Blake was beginning to lose all remnants of his cool. Meaning that whatever he would say would become nothing but white noise. Even with Nathaniel, when he tried to intervene, Blake continued to provoke the man. But...calming Blake down? How? How on earth was he supposed to 'calm' Blake down?! How do you calm down a hurricane?

"What are you doing!? Are you out of your mind?" he hissed out, head jerking toward the door in fear a security guard might come in due to hearing the racket being caused.

"Back off, Jayden!" Blake barked out, eyes flashing toward the FBI agent who suddenly froze in place as if paralyzed by the words, "This guy knows something and I'm not leaving here till he tells me what it is..."

"Let go of me... You...you have no right..." the doctor choked out, Blake turning his attention back to the man he was choking. Waiting till he could nearly see the eyes begin to roll back into the man's skull, he released him, giving a 'hmph' in dominance as he turned his body toward Jayden. Eyes bore into each other, causing Jayden to swallow the saliva in his mouth in uncertainty. Blake shook his head and placed the receiver down, and Norman began to sigh in utter relief. Finally. Finally Blake has seen reason.

Or so he thought.

The lieutenant moved back to grab the doctor by the scruff of his collar and hoisted him to his feet, a powerful display of strength. With one effortless move, he tossed the man off of the desk, Norman watching in horrified awe as the man slipped across the desk and landed sharply on the ground. Something inside of him screamed at him to act and stop Blake. This was wrong! He was abusing his power! But self-preservation kicked in. Did he want to go against Blake? Would that be a wise move?

"C'mon Doc, there's an easy way and a hard way," Blake cooed out as he walked around to pick the doctor up without breaking a sweat, "It's your fucking choice." Seeing there was no answer save for the man's gasping, Blake did not hesitate to ram his fist into the man's face. It became a repeated motion: pull him back up, punch, pull him back up, punch.

Fuck self-preservation.

With determined expression on his face, he rammed his body against Blake's, sending the man stumbling a few feet away from the bleeding doctor. Blake looked as if he was about to instantly lunge at Jayden, but seemed to think about it and straighten his posture. With a snarl he closed the space between them until they were face-to-face, "What's up with you, Norman? You getting cold feet." Hearing his first name used in such a disapproving tone made cold shivers run up his spine. "You don't like to get your hands dirty huh!? I thought you wanted to save that kid!"

That was the trump card and he could feel himself crave to punch the man in the face. He was infuriated that Blake doubted him! "I want to save Shaun Mars just as much as you do," he began levelly, finding it nearly impossible to keep eye contact with Blake, "But that doesn't give me the freedom to do what the hell I like. So you're gonna stop this shit right now!"

Blake turned away from him, brushing him off as he walked toward the wall. He stopped, turning back to give that disapproving shake of the head once more. Jayden could feel his insides coil in the feeling of oncoming nausea as those wild eyes speared through him.

"I'll get you for this, Jayden. Don't worry, I will not forget!"

Carter Blake was true to his words: he didn't forget.

Norman remained holed up in the office, not willing to venture out as Carter caused a sea of fury and activity to commence. The police station was a chaotic scene of men scurrying about trying to find everything they could about Ethan Mars. Carter was screw gone loose as Perry sat back and allowed the natural disaster called Blake reek havoc. In the end it was all about closing the case, and it seemed as if Perry was all right with having Carter play 'boss'.

It was sickening. It was goddamn scary.

Running a hand through his hair as he placed the ARI on the dusty desk, he closed his eyes to let them rest. A headache was beating a beat against his forehead and in the back of his head it was whispering at him to use the Tripto before it escalated. Brushing aside the voice, he focused on breathing in and out deeply. Stress and the ARI were dangerous...actually, just using the ARI was dangerous... Sometimes he would wake up in a cold sweat and find him underwater, his lungs panicking and believing it could not receive oxygen. It was all a trick of the mind but it was enough to cause his body to breakdown.

He needed to stop but...he would do it after this case... A common, overused promise of late.

Massaging his temples, he began to feel the headache cease to be until a hot hand grasped the back of his head and slammed it against the desk's surface. Blurbs of color seared through his vision as his mind instantly went to the ARI, thankful that the glasses were far from harm and sitting undisturbed on the upper end of the desk.

"You really disappoint me, Jayden," a voice seethed out, causing the FBI agent to jerk his head to the right to see a looming Carter Blake. "I thought we were finally getting somewhere," he added, Jayden giving a skeptical look as he scooted back in his seat. He felt trapped in this concrete room of his and he had this growing, sinking sensation in the pit of his being that Blake was not here to express his disappointment and leave.

Blake wanted blood. His blood.

"Blake...hurting others for information is not right. You are abusing your authority! And to what end?!" Norman bit back, ignoring the now dull throb his head was giving out. It was as if his skin was pulsing and forming internal bruises.

"I'm doing this for Shaun Mars --"

"Oh! So you use Shaun Mars to justify your violent behavior. Now how, do tell, did you use Shaun Mars to justify this behavior in the past?"

Norman expected a rebuttal, but he should have known it would have been a physical one. Blake rammed his bare fist into his jaw, the chair rolling back and hitting the concrete wall. Norman could feel the blood pool in his mouth before the pain registered in his brain, his eyes itching in pain. Those pale, blue eyes of his turned to the door to the office and noted in growing weary that the lock was pushed in. He was truly trapped with the trembling Blake who seemed he was on the verge of tearing the very ground apart with his bare hands if capable.

Spitting blood out to the side, eyes narrowing in warning at the approaching Blake, the lieutenant only looked at him with the ghost of a smirk.

Standing to his feet, his own hands curled as he tried to play with instinct and the recollection of what the FBI has taught him, he found only his insides giving a dull whine.

_Oh god, come on! Give me a break! _

Stress was a trigger that helped inspire his brain to realize it was in desperate need of relief. It needed that numbing drug that eased away his pain and troubles. So his insides began to give the sound of a dying dog as his eyes began to itch again. He could feel the blood behind his eye sockets pulse and when he blinked, his vision was a blur. He could make out the outline of Blake's menacing figure and the gray backdrop, but nothing else.

A hand grabbed him roughly by the neck and hoisted him with that animalistic ease, Jayden feeling every callous on Blake's hand against his skin. Expecting Blake to strangle him like Ethan's psychologist, he opted for turning around and slamming him onto the floor. Jayden's world became a vibrant exchange of colors as his head reeled in pain, body arching in affliction as if it believed if it moved away from the floor the injury would lesson.

Blake's body pinned him back to the cold floor, watery eyes watching as the older male straddled him, a hand reaching out to grab his tie and yank his head up. "We're s-supposed to be...a team! We need...to work together...and beating everyone who doesn't give you...the answer you want isn't working!" Norman gasped out, still trying to regain oxygen as he felt his tone take a pleading tone. He didn't want Blake to do him more physical harm while he was undergoing the side-effects done by the ARI and the Tripto. He didn't want his secret to be revealed and he hated the fact of looking weak in front of this psychopathic lieutenant. What if he found out it was in his pocket? Just a few inches away!?

The weaker he became, the stronger Blake became.

"Oh, well maybe you didn't get the memo, but teamwork is _you_ staying out of my fucking way," Blake snarled, ramming his fist once more into his jaw. It was amazing how Blake found the same exact spot, making Jayden nearly choke on the blood in his mouth.

Jerked back up by the grip on his tie, head lolling lazily, he watched in growing horror as sand floated about in thick, orange clouds. The cement ceiling was fading away to the dark atmosphere of space and he could feel his body panic. It was Blake's jerk of the tie that brought him back to reality, trying his best to keep his gaze and focus on Blake. _Focus on the psychopath, ignore the blur of reality and fantasy._ "You are full of shit," Norman spat, blood hitting Blake square-on, the liquid weeping on his cheek.

Norman wanted that punch. He wanted that fist of reality that would allow him to keep himself grounded. Maybe it would overcome the symptoms from the withdrawal. Yet it didn't come, the lieutenant giving a smug look as he wiped the blood off. "And you need to get off your self-righteous ass. We got somewhere closer today because of me, not because we sat about running our mouths."

_That idiot! It isn't Ethan Mars!_

"Ethan Mars is innocent! Even _you_ know that."

"I don't care what your little profiling shit says, but when the jury sees the facts they aren't going to be singing to your tune."

_Why isn't he punching!?_

"You know it really worries me how you always are in-tune to this hostile aggression of yours," Norman hissed, trying to ignore the fact he could feel the heat from the ground...as if he was on earth that burned... He knew if he looked at it he would see red earth with gaping cracks and sand that sifted with a lazy air. He knew if he looked he would absolutely lose it, and if he lost it he would be forced to take the drug that resided in his pocket.

He couldn't do it in front of Blake. He rather die than let Blake know his dark secret.

"It only makes me wonder if I haven't given you enough of it," Blake foreshadowed and Jayden closed his eyes.

How could one describe the coming scene? It was one of disheartening submission that the FBI agent was not familiar with or trying to make himself familiar with. He could feel bruises form on his skin and his body begin to sink into a state of sleep. It was as if his leg was asleep and concocted this feeling of pins and needles, where everything that touched it gave off this numb response. Even though a portion of his nerves could feel wet liquid seeping from his nose and mouth, his body was limp. He embraced the blows because the more physical trauma the higher the chance his mental trauma may skid away. Let Blake be his cold water on his face.

His body was pulled up from the ground but he didn't register much movement, but yet it occurred. He did not dare open his eyes in fear he'd find himself still in some terrible fantasy.

"Sometimes I feel as if I'm training a dog," Blake's words cut through his dull thoughts that sloshed about in his skull. It was his voice that brought him out of this state of deafness, blindness, and numbness from the situation. The second his eyes flashed open was the minute his ears realized someone was giving out this terrible sound of a whine and a sob mixed together. Looking around for the perpetrator, he found after a moment of confusion that it was him. His lungs were heaving for air as his sobs would make his lungs spasm. A whine curled around at the base of his throat and slipped out as his body felt as if someone set it on fire. Pain seared and burned his nerve endings with malicious intent, and he was now aware of his body aching. He was aware of each and every bruise. Of the blood swimming in his mouth and coating it in it's copper taste. Of the split lip that was screaming in agony when his tears slipped in to stupidly comfort it, blind to the fact it was doing more harm than good. Of the stiff ache his jaw gave, making him wonder if it was dislocated. Of the tongue he bit so deeply to keep the sounds racking through his body on mute. Of the humiliated muscles around his neck that felt as if he just undergone a severe case of whiplash. Of the cold grip on his right wrist and of the cold air on his thighs...

His mind jolted to life as he looked up to see his right wrist handcuffed to the desk and than to the panting lieutenant that just finished tugging Jayden's pants off. He assumed the worst immediately when he saw this. He should have known! This couldn't be happening to him! He did not deserve such treatment!

"How many times do I have to bash your skull in for you to understand the simple command 'sit'?" Blake mused as he casually folded the pants, Jayden taking small relief that the vial of his poison was undisturbed. The lieutenant dropped the folded pants in the farthest corner of the room along with Jayden's phone. Gazing at his handiwork on Jayden's skin, he wiped his hands in satisfaction and made his way toward the door.

"I'll get you when we have located Ethan Mars. In the meantime...why don't you try to get it through your thick skull that this is my turf? Don't fuck with my authority," Blake sighed out, as if he just did the world a massive favor. With a smirk he opened the door and closed it behind him, leaving Norman Jayden jerking his sore arm against the desk and realizing no key was given. Plus, if someone did come in if he cried out for help, they would find him in his briefs and cuffed like some beaten whore.

Cursing under his breath as he began the long process of dragging the desk with him toward his pants. He finally understood why Nathaniel Williams called Blake the "antichrist".

* * *

_Love it? Hate it? Tell me in a review!_

**A/N: ** I changed the time when the two met with the psychologist. Instead of 9:55 PM, I changed it to 9:55 AM. _  
_


End file.
